


Wizard in Training

by orphan_account



Category: Hockey RPF, The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, M/M, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 14:49:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2655968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day the precarious balance of Patrick Kane’s life shifted was also the day he met the only wizard advertised in the Chicago phonebook under “Wizard.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wizard in Training

**Author's Note:**

> This a crossover with the Dresden Files. It's set, roughly, before the events of "Changes" in the Dresden universe. Also this is unbetaed.

When Patrick Kane was drafted number one in the NHL to the Chicago Blackhawks it would have been the happiest day of his life _bar none,_ if the Blackhawks hadn’t recently been sold—in a deal some newspapers were calling shocking without quite ever saying why—to the notorious Chicago mafia boss Gentleman Johnny Marcone. Patrick couldn’t manage ecstatic with his sisters clinging to him, asking him if he wouldn’t reconsider going to college for a year or four, his mom arguing that she really should stay with him for a few months to help him “settle in,” and his dad silently patting his back. It was like they were sending him off to die in some war and not to the start of his hockey career. 

“I’ll be fine,” Patrick told them but he wasn’t so sure. 

Bill Wirtz sold the Chicago Blackhawks in the last few months of his life. Before the fans of the team had enough time to get over the shock, Marcone had started to make positive changes, signing a deal with Comcast and WGN-TV to air the games locally, revamping the marketing of the Blackhawks and re-building the team. And Chicagoans were already used to Johnny Marcone. He might be the devil but he was the devil they knew. He had reduced civilian casualties from gang violence to nearly nil, made the city safer for everyone, so he wasn’t the worst crime lord around. No really, people of Chicago insisted, it could be worse. Bill Wirtz could still be in charge of the Blackhawks. 

But John Marcone wasn’t only the mafia boss of Chicago. He had recently signed onto the Unseelie Accords as a Freeholding Lord, something that Patrick and his family knew because his mother was a wizard and Patrick and his sisters were apprentice wizards. That was what concerned his family. John Marcone was the only person who had ever signed onto the Accords without any supernatural ability of his own. Marcone had a real Valkyrie working for him, according to Patrick’s mom, and Patrick was both fucking terrified and excited as hell at the thought of meeting her. On the one hand a Valkyrie must, by law, be hotter than any woman Patrick had ever seen, and on the other hand Patrick couldn’t even think of hitting on her without first seriously risking his balls. 

Baron John Marcone the Freeholding Lord of Chicago was scary in ways Patrick couldn’t even imagine and frankly didn’t want to.

* * *

 

Patrick met Jonny—the other Jonny—who Patrick eventually came to think of as _his_ Jonny in the privacy of his head when he was with the Junior Flyers. Nothing special happened when they were thirteen but Patrick would later fold sunshine into a handkerchief with the memory in his mind.They met, they exchanged what passed as pleasantries in the world of hockey players, and later insults. They learnt quickly to make beautiful hockey together and it was the same when they started playing for the Blackhawks years later. 

The first month was spent in the comforting routine of practice, only more exhilarating, tiring, more everything. Patrick stayed with the Bowmans when his rookie season started. The Bowmans were kind non-magical people and he refused to even think of magic anywhere near them. Above all he avoided eye contact with everyone. The absolute last thing he needed was to soul-gaze with his mobster boss but thankfully Patrick only had to meet Marcone twice, very briefly, over that first season. 

Patrick found out about a week into the season that all his teammates were also completely magical-less. He was relieved about that. While it would have been nice to talk about how horrifying it was to adjust to a life without technology, how he refused to accept it and still bought smartphones—even though he usually ended up frying them—and about the changeling barista at a coffee shop he went to sometimes, it was better not to worry about his secret getting out to Marcone through other people. 

Patrick concentrated on hockey and let his magic slide under the radar. His mom worried that he’d forget all his training. Patrick had never been that powerful to begin with. He was passable at magic but not a genius like Jackie. Patrick even doubted whether he would make the White Council but his mother has reassured him that he could get in. She had been part of the Council even before she married Patrick’s dad, she was way older than she looked because wizards lived longer than other people, so she would totally know.  

Jonny scored his first goal on his first shot of his first game and Patrick thought maybe he was magical after all because really _that_ was unreal. They played so well together that Patrick wanted to cry just a little. 

Patrick won the Calder Trophy. 

The summer passed in training both for hockey and magic. Patrick attended his first Council meeting as his mom’s apprentice, sat at the back, and fiddled with his robes. It was intimidating at first but turned out to be mostly boring. Patrick felt some excitement at meeting other apprentice wizards like himself, especially this hot girl from Utah who made out with him next to the guardian statues at the entrance to the meeting. That was the best part. Patrick mostly tuned out all the rest of it. He’d thought before how it would be interesting to hear about the White Council’s war with the Red Court vampires but that was because he’d imagined they would talk about the details of the battles, while in fact the Wizards ended up mostly discussing logistics such as the passages through Nevernever, taking care of refugees, and negotiating with the Sidhe. And while the other apprentices were cool they mostly just wanted to talk about this one wizard. Blah, blah, blah, Harry Dresden, blah. 

* * *

 

By the time of the convention, Patrick was all set up in his new place, which his mother and sisters had tried their best to make into a home for him. The best natural protection anyone could ask for was having a threshold. It made supernatural bad guys powerless if they crossed it without an invitation but it was hard to establish as a bachelor. His family came to stay with him as much as possible and Patrick was reluctant to invite too many people into his new home. Jonny showed up a lot anyway and sometimes at the _most_ _inconvenient time_. 

The first time it happened was while Patrick was brewing a potion. It was a pick-me-up potion his mom told him to practice. He imagined it would also be useful during playoffs because of course they would get to the playoffs this year. The bell rang while he was in the middle of adding the final ingredient. 

“Oh, shit,” Patrick mouthed as he saw who it was standing oh-so-casually outside his door. Jonathan Toews never slouched, he had perfect posture, and a perfect face, and shitty timing. Jonny rang the bell again. Pat was so flustered that he opened the door without changing out of his brewing robes, spattered with a decade of outrageous ingredients, including deer musk, liquor, hairspray, and chocolate. 

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” Jonny asked after taking a moment to stare at Patrick in judgement.“You look ridiculous by the way.” 

“I play D&D,” Patrick said breathlessly. He’d used this lame excuse before with friends who weren’t magic to explain his odd behavior. It worked really well. His friends thought he was secretly nerdy.

“Playing Dungeons & Dragons doesn’t mean you have to dress like that,” Jonny said with disdain. “What? I know things.”

“Sure, Jonny, you are very well-informed for a clueless hockey bro.” 

“Seriously you’re not gonna invite me in?”

“Fine. Come in,” Patrick said reluctantly. 

Patrick had to explain the mess in his kitchen by saying he was cooking and follow that up by actually making a decent burrito for Jonny. After that it seemed like Jonny was over everyday. That freeloader. 

* * *

 

The day the precarious balance of Patrick’s life shifted completely was also the day he met the only wizard advertised in the Chicago phonebook under “Wizard.” The Blackhawks had a game against Columbus the next day. It was that time of the season when every game seemed to matter a little more, and Patrick was tense at the morning practice, unusually tense according to his teammates. “Lighten up, Peekaboo,” Sharpy told him and threw a wet towel at his face. 

He couldn’t exactly explain to them why he was nervous about the early Christmas party their mobster boss was throwing for the whole team and management, which was mandatory for everyone to attend, apprentice wizard or not. He was still sitting in the locker room after everyone had gone, fumbling with his laces, wild sweaty curls blocking his vision.  

“Did you forget how to tie your laces, Kaner?” Jonny said from somewhere above him. “You’re such a little kid sometimes.”

“Why are you still here, man?” Patrick finally got up and grabbed his newly fried phone from the bench. It was still smoking. 

“I was waiting for you. Do you want to drive together to the thing tonight?” 

“Yeah sure. Thanks Jonny.” Patrick’s hummer had broken down yesterday in a freak magic related technology malfunction. Jonny was inept at many things, too serious about everything including fun, but he was surprisingly considerate when it came to Patrick’s magical mishaps, even though he had no idea why Patrick was such a klutz around technology.He barely glanced at the still smoking phone in Pat’s hand. 

“Come on. Let’s have lunch at the place next to that Mexican place Duncs loves. I’ve heard it’s good.”  

“Okay, Jonny. Whatever you want.”

“I want a reuben sandwich.”

* * *

 

Patrick Kane was dressed to kill. No really, like literally, he was dressed to, okay not kill, because that would be breaking the first law of magic and would get him in trouble not only with the White Council, who were known to actually execute people over that kind of thing, but also his mother who would definitely butcher him herself. He was dressed to defend himself. He had his blasting rod hidden in his pocket and he was willing to explain it away as a new cellphone his teammates had never heard of, especially marketed to nerds who played Magic: the Gathering. He had several rings capable of performing very basic protective and defensive magicks. He was as ready as he would ever be to go to the suburban McMansion of one of the most powerful men alive. 

The radio in Jonny’s car exploded in the middle of some pop song. Jonny pretended like he hadn’t noticed even though Patrick could tell he was annoyed by the way he clenched his jaw. It’s because I’m nervous, Patrick wanted to say but he kept his mouth shut. He never wanted to say the words; I’m a wizard in training,Jonny. He pretended the song was still playing and sang along. 

Right after Jonny handed over his keys to a valet in a better tailored suit than Patrick’s, he grabbed Pat’s hand and pulled him aside. 

“You need to calm down. There are more than a hundred people at this thing. Nothing you’re worried about is going to happen here. Okay?” Jonny tried to establish eye contact with Patrick but Patrick avoided it as usual. 

“You calm down, asshole. I’m fine,” and with that Patrick went through the entrance. 

* * *

 

Patrick took some frankly ridiculous pictures with his teammates, drank a whole lot of alcohol, and shook hands with many important people. He’d had to spend about five minutes chatting with Marcone. Marcone called him “Mister Kane,” and asked after his family in the politest terms possible. His shook Patrick’s hand at the end and left to take an important call. Marcone spent a long time outside in the cold with a red-haired man, who was built like a bulldozer, dogging his every step. Patrick watched Marcone through the balcony windows, as he leaned against the wrought iron railings and smiled. Pat found himself Listening almost reluctantly. He sipped his champagne nonchalantly and avoided Jonny’s glare.

“I’ll be expecting you then. Please come sooner rather than later,” said the Baron of Chicago in a voice so smooth it was practically made of silk. 

“I have to check my busy schedule. I don’t know if I have any room for criminal scumbags tonight,” said asarcastic voice on the other side of the phone. 

“I would hope to be the only criminal scumbag on your schedule tonight,” said Marcone in a low voice. Patrick choked on a mouthful of champagne.

“My, aren’t we presumptuous,” murmured the guy. “I’ll see if I can wrap up this case quickly. Gotta go.”

They hung up without exchanging any goodbyes. The Baron stared pensively out at the grounds. Patrick would bet anything that he was pining.  

“Shit,” Patrick said into his glass. 

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to eavesdrop?” said a voice from behind him. Patrick froze, put down his glass, and swiveled slowly around on his bar stool. An amazon of a woman, nay, a goddess stared down at him from the heights.  

“Ah, ma’am, who–?” Patrick didn’t quite get the words out before he realized this must be the Valkyrie he had heard about. 

“You may call me Miss Gard. Please refrain from Listening in to private conversations in the future.” She stared at him for a long moment and then left just as silently as she had arrived.

* * *

 

People were starting to leave and Patrick was well on his way to being hammered when suddenly the whole room went dark. There were a few scattered gasps and someone giggled uncontrollably. Patrick forgot he was, you know, a freaking _wizard_ and clutched at Jonny’s arm. They were about to leave. A few minutes and they would have been well on their way home and now Patrick could feel something sinister gathering in the room, something that smelled of rotten eggs, and felt slimy. 

“We need to leave, Jonny. Right now,” Patrick whispered into Jonny’s ear “Please, please, let’s leave.”

“We’ll do that. Pat, let’s follow the wall out. Grab my hand,” Patrick clutched at Jonny’s hand and they made their slow way along the wall. When something like a shadow jumped at them from the center of the room, it was instinct more than anything that made Patrick extend his hand out, and surround Jonny and himself in a circular shield. The shadow hurled boulders against the shield. They broke into small pieces of rock. Patrick would have been impressed with himself if the rings on his right hand hadn’t all melted simultaneously. He threw them off and took out his blasting rod.

“Let’s keep going, Jonny.” Patrick glanced to where Jonny was and somehow their eyes must have met in the dark, because just like that they were soul-gazing. 

* * *

 

It was like nothing Patrick had ever experienced. Of course he had soul-gazed with people before; his family, some other wizards, even a few friends. Jonny shone bright, so bright that Patrick felt blinded and overwhelmed. Jonny was holding a sword in his hands like he knew how to use it. He looked dangerous and beautiful at the same time. Patrick felt faint. Is this who you were all this time? he wanted to ask Jonny. I never knew.

They were standing in a small vegetable garden and there was a little cottage in the background. It was all very homely except Jonny’s light seemed to blot out the very sun. Patrick tried to touch Jonny and his hand burned with a sharp pain that made Patrick cry out. 

* * *

 

“Patrick, oh please wake up,” someone was whispering urgently. “Come on, buddy.”

“I never knew you were an angel,” Patrick mumbled to Jonny. It was still dark but there was a tall man, wearing a long leather coat, standing above Patrick and the amulet on his chest was glowing. The room seemed to be empty except for the three of them. “You’re so. Ugh. Beautiful. It’s painful.”

“You’re not bad looking yourself. No homo,” said the man with the glowing chest.

“You shine, Jonny. You shine,” Patrick knew he was babbling but he couldn’t help himself.  

“Fight the forces of evil now. Flirt later,” the man said. “Ha! That’s a mouthful.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were beautiful?” Patrick clutched at Jonny’s hand. He felt like crying. “I had to find out like _this_.”

“Patrick, you’re not making any sense,” Jonny said worriedly. “I think he has a concussion.” They held hands as they made their way slowly through the room behind the tall man.

“Here’s the deal, kids. Fighting evil leaves no room for romance. Believe me. I know it’s tragic but stop holding hands. You’ll need them to fight the bad guys.” The guy seemed to be leading them further into the building rather than away. 

“Shouldn’t we be leaving?” Patrick asked Jonny in a whisper. Jonny had obeyed the other man without asking questions and dropped Patrick’s hand like a hot potato. Patrick clutched at Jonny’s arm instead. Pat didn’t even know the other guy. Why did he have to listen to him? He felt very confused, but having Jonny under his hands made him feel better. 

“He’s a wizard, Patrick,” Jonny said calmly. “He knows what he’s doing.”

“I’m a wizard, too!” Patrick said in a loud voice. The other guy snorted from ahead of them. 

“You’re not a wizard yet. You’re only an apprentice,” Jonny said sharply. “What? I know these things. I told you and you didn’t believe me.”

“Fine you know these things. Who is he?” Patrick asked urgently. They were standing in front of a dark, sinister door. Patrick did not want to find out what was on the other side.

“Harry Dresden,” said the guy as he pushed open the door, “at your service.”

“Oh no,” Patrick said as Jonny marched after Dresden into the darkness. “Not fucking Harry fucking Dresden. Fuck.”

* * *

 

“And then he started a war,” Patrick told Jonny as they fought there way through a wall of human goons. Dresden was busy fighting a demon in the corner. “Seriously, Jonny, you can’t trust this guy. He started _a war.”_

 _“_ I hear you, Pat,” Jonny said as he discarded the machine gun and picked up a wicked looking knife. “The guy is bad news.”

“Hey!” Dresden panted out, “that’s not fair. I don’t know how I end up in these situations.”

“You’re a trouble magnet, Dresden,” Ms. Gard said from where she was fighting against three heavily armed men at once.

Patrick blasted the last man standing near Ms. Gard and she nodded her head in thanks. Man, she was hot. If Jonny wasn’t so devastatingly attractive while holding a gun, just devastating, Patrick would have tried to hit that. 

They’d cleared the room. Dresden had wiped the floor with the demon. Patrick could admit it was cool butthat much power concentrated in a single mortal man was a scary sight. 

Ms. Gard kicked open the door to the adjacent room. John Marcone and his red-headed bodyguard were lying unconscious on the floor. Dresden pushed past everyone to Marcone. His face was terrifying. He looked otherworldly in his anger. He wiped the blood from Marcone’s lips with a fingertip and lifted him up gently into a sitting position. 

“Scumbag,” Dresden said in a voice like an endearment. “Filth of the earth. You dastardly man. Wake up.”

“You’re here,” Marcone said after a moment and opened his eyes. Dresden nodded and blocked everyone’s view of Marcone with his freakishly tall body. Marcone straightened himself up and wiped blood off his face with a little white handkerchief. 

“I trust everything is in order, Ms. Gard,” Marcone said as he stood up and offered Dresden a hand. Dresden grabbed it and pulled himself up with a groan. 

“Yes, sir,” Ms. Gard replied. The red haired man was standing against the wall and had a gun back in his hands. 

“What an adventure,” Dresden drawled after glancing around at the destruction he’d caused. “At least I didn’t burn anything down this time.”

“There’s still time,” Marcone said quietly. “If you like.”

They shared a hot and heavy glance. Patrick grabbed Jonny’s hand and pulled him out of that volatile situation.  

* * *

 

“Kiss me, Jonny,” Patrick said as soon as they got back to his apartment. 

“What?” Jonny sounded confused. Patrick pushed Jonny against the fridge and kissed him. 

They made out for awhile, it was going really well, but then Jonny pulled away. He still had a confused look on his face. 

“Wait,” Jonny said while holding up his hand like he was traffic police. “You, uh, like me?”

“Yeah, I, uh, like you,” Patrick was getting angry. “What the hell.”

“You never said anything! You’re a wizard. We just fought mobsters and their was a demon they’d summoned using _magic_! Also I was worried you had a concussion because you were saying weird things. So, fuck you, yeah I’m asking,” Jonny said angrily. “Consent is a thing.”

“Dude. I told you that you were beautiful. Repeatedly. We also held hands on the drive back. You drove with one hand even though it’s unsafe. I kissed you,” Patrick listed all the points on his fingers. “Also I don’t have a concussion. We soul-gazed and it made me a little crazy.”

“Okay, that’s all I needed to know,” Jonny said calmly. “C’mere.” Then they were kissing again and it was like Patrick could feel Jonny’s light seeping into him. What are you? Patrick wanted to ask but the questions could wait. He didn’t need to know because he knew everything that really mattered. Like how Jonny was a great kisser. He knew the really important things. 


End file.
